


Blessed With A Curse

by messandahalf



Series: The Darkness Within (Trilogy) [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, King Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Light Angst, M/M, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24663817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messandahalf/pseuds/messandahalf
Summary: Merlin has been back in Camelot for just over a year, and he’s still struggling. His guilt is making him withdrawn and uneasy, despite the fact that it’s unwarranted. Things only get more complicated for him when his magic seems to be returning already.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: The Darkness Within (Trilogy) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783210
Comments: 8
Kudos: 129





	Blessed With A Curse

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not entirely happy with this, but I decided I’d post it anyway. That being said, there will probably be another part in the future (whether it’s a short like this, or a full length fic, I’m not sure yet).

The fifteen months since returning to Camelot had been hard for Merlin. Initially, he had been greeted with varying levels of suspicion and hesitance. As the days went by, he was slowly accepted back into the city, but it never felt the same. Arthur had assured him every day that it was all in his head, and he desperately wanted to believe the King, but he knew about the haunted looks shot his way when the citizens thought he wasn’t looking. His gut curled painfully whenever he walked through the Lower Town, senses overwhelmed with the memories of crackling fires and pools of blood. Sure, he hadn’t killed as many people as the curse had wanted him to, but that blood was still on his hands. He felt sick with it. Every morning, his head told him that he shouldn’t be here, but every night, as Arthur pulled him into his safe and strong arms, his heart told him that he couldn’t leave.

Eventually things settled, everything fell back into a routine, and life went on. Merlin rarely left the citadel alone, always choosing to accompany someone else on errands to the Town. Even inside the stone walls, Merlin rarely spoke to anyone whom he didn’t know well. He knew that Arthur, and Gwen, and the knights were all worried about him, he just didn’t know what to tell them. He was haunted by dreams of what he had done. They had lessened in intensity since his arrival, at first they had been so vivid and unbearable that he had rarely slept at all, but they were still there. He was terrified of not having his magic, but also terrified of its inevitable, albeit slow, return.

Merlin slowly blinked awake, cradled, as usual, in Arthur’s arms. For those first few moments of the day, he felt safe and warm. He basked in the feeling as long as possible, knowing that it would eventually slip away once both he and the King officially started the day. He cherishes these brief moments the most, when Arthur was still asleep, but still holding him so tightly, almost afraid that he might disappear while he’s dreaming. He closes his eyes, relaxing back into the King’s warmth with a soft sigh. He’s almost asleep again when he feels Arthur start to stir awake behind him.

“Mmm.” Arthur hums, burying his face into the back of Merlin’s head. “Morning.” He loosens his grip on Merlin’s waist as Merlin starts to struggle. They both smile softly as Merlin turns around to face him.

“Morning.” Merlin breathes, lifting a hand to softly stroke along Arthur’s cheekbone and jawline. Arthur’s eyes close again at the feeling, a contented sigh leaving his lips.

“What are your plans for the day?” Arthur asks, reopening his eyes to focus on Merlin’s face. Merlin shrugs, eyes darting away. He never really has plans anymore. He tends to some of Arthur’s needs, wanting some familiarity when he returned, but he didn’t take over as Arthur’s manservant entirely. He had just felt too twitchy and unstable at first. “Why don’t you come down to council with me? I am meeting citizens that would like to present petitions today.”

Merlin inhales sharply and shakes his head. “No. I don’t think I can do that today. Not yet.” He rushes out, already scrambling back and out of bed. He sits on the edge, facing the room, and steadfastly ignoring Arthur behind him. Arthur may be convinced that his people had accepted him back, but Merlin is not. If anything, he believes the exact opposite.

Arthur’s hand settling soothingly between his shoulder blades makes him jump. “Merlin, I know what you’re worried about, but it’s okay. You’ve been back for just over a year, and the people haven’t revolted against me yet. It’s okay.” He says slowly, as though speaking to a frightened and wounded animal.

Merlin just shakes his head. “No, Arthur. I’m not ready to face the people like that yet.”

Arthur sighs, face twisted in pain as he replies, “Very well. I will not force you to do anything you do not feel comfortable doing.” Merlin sags slightly, whether in relief or defeat, neither man is entirely sure. “Will you help me dress?” He asks, pressing a feather-light kiss to Merlin’s shoulder.

“Yeah, okay.” Merlin says, exhaling shakily. It takes both men another minute before they get out of bed completely. Arthur watches Merlin with a soft gentleness as the dark haired man moves to the cupboard to pull out clothes for the day. He selects a pair of Arthur’s softest trousers, and his favourite dark blue tunic, bringing them back over to the King. Arthur dutifully steps out of his nearly threadbare trousers that he usually sleeps in, and accepts the pair Merlin hands him. He keeps his eyes glued on Merlin as the man tightens up the laces. Once his tunic is pulled over his head, he pulls Merlin into a chaste kiss, needing to reassure them both that things were still okay.

“Are you sure that you do not wish to join me?” He offers one last time as Merlin secures the red cloak around his shoulders. Merlin looks up and meets his gaze, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Yes, my Lord.” He says. His eyes cloud over slightly. “I do not belong there.” He adds sadly. Arthur grips his wrist before he can pull away.

Arthur’s gaze is intense as he says, “Never think that, Merlin. Your place is always by my side, no matter where that happens to be.”

Merlin offers up a watery, unconvinced smile, and a small nod. When he doesn’t say anything in return, Arthur let’s him go. They search each other’s faces for another moment longer before Arthur takes a step back. He has business and duties to attend to, no matter how much he does not want to leave Merlin’s side.

“Do me one thing.” He says, and Merlin nods. “Do not stay here alone the entire time I am gone. At least spend some time with Guinevere. She misses you.”

Merlin is taken aback by the comment, but nods all the same. “Yeah, okay.” He says, not entirely sure if he means it or not.

“I mean it, Merlin. It worries me to see you so withdrawn when you used to be so full of life. Promise me you’ll talk with Gwen.”

Merlin glances away, reluctant to make such a promise. In the end, he mumbles, “I promise.” Arthur looks him over shrewdly before nodding.

“Good.” Arthur says, rubbing his hands up and down Merlin’s arms. “I have a council meeting today, so I don’t know when I’ll be free to see you again. I’m sure that I don’t need to tell you that you’re more than welcome to come find me should you need to.” He adds. Merlin smiles weakly and nods.

“Go. You’re going to be late, you prat.” Merlin says, giving Arthur’s chest a shove. Arthur smiles and leaves, giving Merlin one last glance before slipping out the door. Merlin takes a deep breath, settling his mind before dressing himself. Arthur had insisted, shortly after their return, that Merlin stay with him in his chambers. Merlin wasn’t really in a position to refuse, not that he would’ve wanted to anyway, so all his clothes are nestled in the cupboard next to Arthur’s. The sight still makes Merlin’s heart squeeze.

A knock sounds at the door shortly before a scruffy brunet head peeks in. “Oh, I’m sorry, Sire. I didn’t know anyone was still in here.”

“I’ve asked you not to call me that, David.” Merlin says to Arthur’s new(ish) servant. The boy nods, slowly pushing the door open and entering the room.

“Did you require any assistance?” He asks, standing dutifully by the table. Merlin smiles softly. He had always felt welcomed by this boy.

“No, that’s okay. I was just leaving, actually.” Merlin replies. David nods, moving to tidy the bed. Merlin watches for a moment, a lump forming in his throat as he recalls much simpler times. He hurries from the room before the boy can notice anything.

He chastises himself once he’s alone in the hall, telling himself to get a grip. Things have changed, They’ll never be the same or as simple ever again, and it’s all his fault. There’s nothing he can do to change that, unless there’s some spell somewhere that will let him go back in time. Not that it would make a difference without his magic anyway. He continues on that train of thought as he blindly makes his way through the relatively empty castle halls. He only stops when he hears someone call out his name. When he turns, he spots Gwen walking down the hall toward him.

“Hey, Gwen.” He greets. It looks like he’ll be keeping his promise to Arthur after all.

“Hi.” Gwen says back as she stops a few feet away. “How are you?” She asks, the look in her eyes silently adding the, _‘I feel like I never see you anymore.’_

Merlin fidgets slightly. “I’ve been good, I guess.” He says, but he doesn’t even really believe it himself. Gwen gives him a sad smile.

“Look, Merlin,” she starts, “I don’t have much on the go today, why don’t we go somewhere private and talk? You look like you could use it.”

Merlin bites his lip, unsure, but then Arthur’s worry filled blue eyes rise to the forefront of his mind, and he finds himself nodding. “Yeah, okay.” He says, feeling instantly nervous, but also weirdly filled with hope. Gwen smiles bright and gestures for him to follow her. He does so willingly, hoping that he just made the correct choice.

~~~

It’s several hours later that Merlin and Gwen finally part ways with a warm hug. Gwen murmurs some last minute reassurances in his ear, before they pull apart. Merlin’s face is streaked with dry tears tracks, but he feels lighter than he has since returning to Camelot. He really should’ve talked to Gwen a lot sooner.

“Thank you, Gwen. I promise to come talk to you more often.” He says. She smiles.

“I know. I missed you, Merlin. You’re one of my closest friends.” She punctuates the statement with an even warmer grin. “Now go, before the King complains that I’ve stolen his man.” Merlin actually laughs, genuinely, for the first time in longer than he can even remember. He gives Gwen one last hug before parting ways, making his way slowly back to Arthur’s chambers. _Their_ chambers.

As he pushes the door open, he sees that the table has already been set for dinner. There are two plates heaped with chicken and vegetables, along with two goblets of water, and a jug of mulled wine. His stomach grumbles when he realizes that he hasn’t really eaten all day. That was another thing that had been different since his return. His appetite had all but vanished. Some days he only eats because Arthur refuses to unless Merlin does as well. Today, however, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to have any issues.

He bypasses the plate of food, wanting to wait until Arthur returns before eating. He scoops up one of the empty chalices and fills it with wine. Despite being extremely therapeutic, his talk with Gwen had left him feeling raw. Old wounds that were still bleeding had been ripped open wider, and he just craved something to help him relax. To help ease the trembling currently in his extremities. It’s as he’s placing the jug back down that it happens.

His hands are still shaky, meaning that as he places the jug down, it too shakes. It wobbles as he lets go, promptly tipping as his hand smacks it as he pulls away. He lurches to grab it, but stops as his blood runs cold. There is an old, familiar thrumming in his veins, and there, suspended half-tipped over the table, is the jug. A stream of wine is already spilling from it, frozen in mid-air. It suddenly feels like all the air has been sucked from the room, and Merlin is now suffocating. Gasping uselessly for a breath that won’t come.

Finally, after what feels like a torturous eternity, he wrenches himself backwards, away from the table. The jug of wine finishes its arc toward the table, landing with a loud clang as wine spills over the table, leaking over the edges. Merlin falls to his knees, shaking violently and still unable to catch a breath. There’s a primal fear coursing through his veins now, blocking out all thought except, _‘It’s back, it’s back, it’s back.’_

He continues gasping for breath, only managing to suck in minute lungfuls past his choked throat. He shuffles away from the table, and growing puddle of wine, even further, propping himself against the wall. He curls in on himself, gripping his hands together behind his head, and pulling his face down between his raised knees. _‘This can’t be happening.’_ He thinks desperately. _‘I thought I had more time.’_ He’s vaguely aware of the tears once again streaming down his pale cheeks.

His overwhelming distress blinds him from the sound of the chamber doors opening. He doesn’t hear the sharp inhale, or hurried footsteps towards him, and so jumps violently when a pair of hands grip his shoulders. He swings his head back so quickly that it cracks against the wall. He doesn’t even register the pain as a pair of concerned blue eyes swim in his vision. A pair of perfectly shaped lips are forming words, but he can’t make out any sounds over the pounding of his heart, the blood rushing in his ears. Those same hands gravitate to his face, moving to soothe over the lump forming on the back of his head.

The eyes are now frantic as the mouth forms the word _Merlin_. After two more repetitions of what he distantly recalls is his name, he finally starts to hear the voice. It’s muddled at first, like being heard through water, slowly becoming more clear as Merlin focuses solely on it, instead of the frantic sounds his body is making.

“Arthur?” He wheezes weakly. The King’s face crumbles with relief, and he pulls Merlin’s head into his shoulder to hug him close.

“Oh, thank God.” He murmurs into his hair. “Merlin, what happened?” He demands gently as he pulls back, keeping Merlin’s head secured between both of his hands. Merlin swallows thickly, fighting back the wave of panic threatening to take over as he hears those words, remembers what he had just done. When Merlin fails to answer, Arthur looks back at the table, the fallen jug, and the wine now merely dripping slowly onto the floor below. “Is this about the wine? Merlin, we can get more.”

Merlin shakes his head. “No.” He chokes out hoarsely. “No, it’s... Arthur.” He looks up into Arthur’s eyes, and he looks so terrified, so completely panicked, that Arthur’s heart squeezes with fear. He’s never seen Merlin like this before.

He grips his face tighter. “Merlin, what happened?” He asks again, slowly.

Merlin chokes on a sob. “It... it’s back. Arthur, I don’t know why, but it’s back already. I’m going to have to leave again. I need to keep you safe. I need to go.” He rambles, on the verge of hysteria. He struggles in Arthur’s grip, forcing the King to once again grip his shoulders firmly.

“Merlin.” He says, trying to soothe his lover. When that doesn’t work, he shakes him, more roughly than he’d like, but it seems to get the man’s attention. “Merlin, you’re not making any sense! What’s back? Why do you have to leave?” He says loudly, not quite shouting, but needing to get through to Merlin, needing answers. A dull ache of fear has taken root in his chest.

“My magic.” Merlin gasps, trembling. Arthur looks back at the table in confusion. If Merlin’s magic was back, why was the wine all over the table and floor instead of back in the jug? Merlin seems to be able to read the King’s puzzled look. “I caught it mid-air, then I panicked. I didn’t think it would return this quickly. I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.” He chokes on his next shaky inhale and promptly starts coughing.

Arthur pulls him closer into his chest, running a soothing hand up and down his back in an effort to calm the man down. He can now understand why Merlin is so distraught, but he still doesn’t understand why this means that Merlin has to say goodbye. Had he always been planning to leave again once his magic returned, and just never bothered to share his plans with the King? When Merlin takes one last hiccuping breath before pulling away, Arthur reaches up to gently cup his cheek with one hand, refusing to let him go too far.

“Why does this mean that you need to leave?” He asks. Merlin looks at him with pain filled eyes, like it should be obvious.

“Because magic is still illegal.” He says quietly, and so sadly that Arthur heart aches. “Because my actions have made the ban on magic indefinite. I can’t stay here and put your rule in danger. Your people, they still hate magic. Me being here isn’t safe.” He’s started shaking again, tears running down his cheeks with more force.

“Merlin.” Arthur says with as much authority in his voice as he can muster. “I want you to listen to me very carefully. You being here does not threaten me. I’ve already told you that the people have healed. Sure, there could be a few who still distrust you, but they are not important. Since your return, you have proven to the people that you are to he trusted. They know of your sacrifice. We have nothing to fear.”

Merlin glances away, eyes shifting even as his head cannot. “But—“

“No buts, Merlin. You said yourself that your magic would return slowly, not all at once. It may be returning sooner than you would’ve liked, but you are far from how powerful you were back then. If you wanted, could you perform the spell again?”

Merlin shakes his head. “No. If I try again, it’ll kill me. Ripping apart my very being was risky enough the first time. There’s no way that I would survive it again.” He replies in defeat.

Arthur looks at him. “Let’s test it again.” He says. When Merlin just looks confused, he elaborates. “Your magic. Let’s test it again. Maybe it was a one time thing.” Merlin looks unsure, but nods all the same. Scrambling to his feet, Arthur grips the last empty chalice and spins on his heels, tossing it up into the air without warning.

Merlin’s instincts kick in, and he feels a flare in his veins, but only for a moment. The goblet seems to hang in mid-air for a moment, shaking slightly, before crashing to the ground. The buzz in Merlin’s veins fizzles out, laying dormant once more.

“Likes drops in a bucket, remember?” Arthur says, quoting Merlin’s own words from fifteen months ago. “This is just drop number one. Who knows where things will be when that bucket is even only half full.” He reaches Merlin just in time catch him as the man’s legs give out from under him. He holds his lover’s shaking body close to his own, whispering nonsense into his hair, pressing kisses to the soft locks.

“I’m scared, Arthur.” Merlin admits, voice muffled against the King’s neck.

Arthur tightens his grip around Merlin’s waist. “I know, but there’s no reason to be. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise. I want you to always remember that where you see hateful and distrustful looks, no one else does. Your mind, and your guilt, are playing tricks on you. You are loved, Merlin. So loved.”

Merlin squeezes his eyes shut, unable to truly believe the words. He doesn’t deserve the people’s forgiveness. Still, he sags in Arthur’s arms, craving the comfort that his embrace brings. It takes a while, but slowly, he feels calm. He feels like he can breath again. He pulls away, still avoiding Arthur’s eyes. Out of embarrassment, or fear, or shame, he doesn’t know. Not that it really matters.

“Merlin.” Arthur’s gentle tone forces him to look up. They lock eyes for a moment before Arthur ducks in closer and kisses him soundly on the lips. “Lets eat dinner, and then we can relax.” He looks at the table. “But first we have a mess to clean up.” Merlin’s cheeks redden as Arthur calls David. The boy comes in, dutifully cleans up Merlin’s mess, despite Merlin insisting that he can do it. Once a fresh jug of wine has been delivered, Arthur leads Merlin to the table and sits him down.

They eat in relative silence before Merlin looks up at Arthur across from him and says, “Thank you, you know, for not giving up on me. For not tossing me aside as a monster. Or executing me, for that matter. I would’ve understood if you had.”

Arthur reaches across the table to grip his hand. “You are not a monster, Merlin. I never want you to think that. You have a good heart, and I love you. So much.”

Merlin smiles shyly back, cheeks colouring again. “I love you, too. More than you know.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am officially now on tumblr! I suck at technology, so you’ll just have to go the old fashioned way of looking up: messandahalf10 😂


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